


Farewell

by JikookoftheCaribbeanWaters (FFXVlover958)



Category: Original Work
Genre: CarrierVerse, Crticism is welcome, Horses, Journey, Kingdoms, M/M, Peasants, Princes & Princesses, Royalty, Slight worldbuilding, Writing practice, villages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 15:20:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18813586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFXVlover958/pseuds/JikookoftheCaribbeanWaters
Summary: Gantrick reflects the morning of the grandest journey in which he had ever partaken.





	Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> This is writing practice. I’ve decided that I’ll post my work here, not only to receive criticism or suggestions from readers and other writers, but to expose the little ocs that I’ve grown to love. According to my fellow writing friend, I’ve been writing too long to have never post any of my work, so here is the first in a long list. I was trying to balance exposition with emotion and kind of ground my characters. I have a serious problem with conveying emotions and character voices, so I’ll mostly be working on that.

The scarlet hue of the skies as the sun rose from its slumber was a good omen. So Gantrick’s mother had always told him in the fables she used to regale him with as a child. As foolish as it was, he’d never forgotten than, never been able to distance himself from such a simple and childish belief. It looked the same every morning, sans those when the thunderclouds would rage and riot and the sun hid, waiting for his moon to scare them away.

So, when Juniper had demanded they set out for the capital at once, pure juvenile naivety had the boy in his knees, begging to stay till morning. It was shameful, to have delayed their journey because of a wife’s tail, but it was a bit of his mother with which he could not part. Or maybe, why he latched to it so was a tiny piece of him that did not want to.

The crisp air of the meadow did nothing to ease his mind. It idly ambled between his mother - his life here- and what was to come. He knew near nothing about the road that lay ahead nor the man waiting at the end. Prince Vithcar of Belyrnd was as much myth as the elven folk that were said to live within the walls of the faraway mountains. His little village had no knowledge of the royal, too distant and insignificant for word to be bothered to traverse the Great River to reach the ears of a people to whom cattle mattered more than crowns.

He would be the first to venture beyond the trenches that bordered his village since those who settled it. None ever felt compelled to leave. A simple life was all any knew, and all they desired.

And Gantrick was just that. Simple. He wondered how he was to entertain a court with the little knowledge he had gathered from the books and scrolls that he purchased from passing merchants and his lack of etiquette and the grace with which Queens always had about them, whether speaking before a large crowd or the silence of slumber? How he, a boy had not yet even come of age, was to be in union with a man of such high standing that he had sent an entire guard to fetch him, so far from the capital? A man who almost definitely donned garments of a value great enough to feed his village for a year? What could he possibly offer such a man?

A calloused hand brought Gantrick out of his reverie. He sensed before he saw the line of guards, the soft light of the morning painting their armour a pale, glittering crimson. He turned on his heels, far too nervous to remove the heavy hand on his shoulder, though it made the movement far more awkward that it should have been.

A shudder passed through him, cold as the air after a fresh snow in winter as Nila’s impassive face greeted his eyes, the light catching on crevices of her weather beaten features giving it a menacing undertone. Gantrick bemoaned the fact that he would most likely never become accustomed to seeing such neutrality on a person’s face. No joy or sorrow. Neither anger nor contentment. Fear or pride. Just stony indifference. It unsettled him. Some primal part of him writhed in her presence, deeply disturbed. Though he could not fathom why. Never before had he felt anything like it. The blankness - the emptiness - felt wrong.

“We depart now.”

Her clipped tone made her order all the final. Gantrick simply nodded, tightening the strap of his satchel. He had already said farewell to his father and sister, the village having given him his blessing at the feast the night before. He had come out here to look upon the village - his home - for the last time. Nila has made it clear that once they crossed the border, there was no return.

The Captain of the Guard made a gesture to the guards. Foreign though it was, he assumed it was a command as they retreated to the foot of the hill and mounted their steeds.

He needed no prompting to follow her as she too descended the steep incline, her aura enough to urge him along.

She patted the back of her saddle,her horse, who was just as stony as she, rearing himself onto his hind legs. scrambled alongside her once all four hoofs were firmly against the ground again. Not waiting for him to settle, Nila shouted something in a strange tongue and the steeds moved as one, riding in unison away from the only home he had ever known.

As the vermillion shingled roofs of the huts faded behind the quickly thickening mist, Gantrick could not help but look back.

“Farewell, mother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Criticism is welcome. I’d also like to know if I should continue with this story and what suggestions you have. Your criticism is very welcome.


End file.
